


The Bat and the Spider

by drinkginandkerosene



Category: Batman (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Crossover, Gen, Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkginandkerosene/pseuds/drinkginandkerosene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce had given Peter his number in case of emergencies, but Peter had prayed he'd never had to call it. He should have knew better than to believe in God.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bat and the Spider

“Aunt May!” The last word was almost screamed, ripping his throat and his heart wide open. The arms holding him back clenched to keep hold on the boy dressed in red and blue, despite how hard he struggled. The woman hit the wall and lay still, sickly red trickling from her head. 

And that’s when Peter, or more accurately, Spider-man, snapped. He had never killed anyone before, hadn’t planned too, but right now, he would have happily murdered every criminal in the living room of his house. His house. What he thought was the last safe sanctuary in the world, now had it’s windows put through, glass littering the floor like a sort of sick confetti. 

It had started with a text. 

Unknown number

‘Spiderman. Or should we call you Peter? We’re just admiring your décor. Your aunt is being more than hospitable.’

He had never swung so fast in his life, ran so fast. He had considering stealing a car but he doubted that would improve his wanted status with the boys in blue. 

And now here he was, on his knees, execution style, hands held at his side. Apparently, a price had been put on his head by one of the more cocky supervillians. He’d find out which one. But for now, he was helpless and his aunt was badly hurt, and he was getting angry. No. Angry wasn’t even an adequate word. 

He pushed up from the ground, allowing himself to fall backwards, the two men holding him slamming into each other with brutal force. Peter was not in the mood to be merciful. He had the webbed together within seconds after kicking the gun to the wall, and dodging a few bullets from the third man. The man who had thrown his aunt. Hurt her. Peter had to take just a moment to breathe, not do anything rash, not rip him apart with his bare hands. He settled for smashing his head against the wall, hard enough to knock him out.

And then he ran to his aunt. 

“Aunt may, jesus, Aunt May?” He fumbled for his cellphone, because she wasn’t waking up, why wasn’t she waking up, there shouldn’t be that much blood, why was it coming from her mouth - “Yeah, In-need an ambulance, now-” He stuttered his location, why was her breathing slowing - “S-some guys b-broke into my h-house, Spiderman caught them, b-but my aunt, she isn’t, she’s not moving, God.” He hung up after a confirmation was received, someone was on the way. He was holding her to his chest, begging, sobbing. He slowly put his hand to her throat, and… Nothing.

“Oh God.“ It was screamed, not just because his Aunt was dead, but because he was completely alone, no-one left, just him and worst of all? It was all. His. Fucking. Fault.

But business had to be taken care of. 

He put his clothes back on, looking at the three men lying on the floor. They knew who he was. He couldn’t have that. He contemplated for a few moments, cold fury washing over him in waves, numbing anything else. They were low-level hired goons, no loyalty. And anyway, it’s not like they could use his identity against him much anymore… He glanced at the body of his aunt, and the mercy he usually had drained out of him. He needed help. From a professional.

He fumbled with his phone again, dialling a number he’d never had to before. 

“B-bruce? It’s me, it’s Peter.” He couldn’t recognise his own voice. He knew Bruce through the internship Gwen has scored him at Osborne, and while he doubted he could be counted as a friend, he knew his biggest secret. Like Bruce knew his. He had been rather careless. Bruce had analysed some of the web left on a criminal, led it back to the Osborne industries, and well, he was the only one who fit. They’d had a rather unnervingly calm discussion about it. Basically agreed to stay out of each other’s hair. Peter handled street level stuff. Batman took down the mobs. Occasionally Bruce would call Peter to ask if he’d heard or seen anything that could count as a clue, though usually he had The Black Bat or Robin for that. He’d only caught sight of those two a few times, and they never spoke to him. They probably considered him beneath them. They were probably right.

“Peter? Oh, ho- What’s wrong?”

“My aunt… They killed her and I want to kill them. I really, really want to make them hurt.”

“Are the police on their way?”

Her blood was still staining his hands.

“Yes.” 

“Wait for them, don’t do anything you’ll regret. You’re… A good kid Peter.”

Peter couldn’t bring himself to speak, just sinking to the ground and pulling his knees to his chest. He finally heard sirens.

“And Peter? I’m sorry. I’ll come over when I’m next in New York.” 

“T-Thanks.” He hung up, moving over to the men. He crouched, making eye contact with the leader. “You tell anyone, and I mean anyone who I am… I will find you.” His laugh wasn’t his own, it was bitter and derisive. “I will kill you. Understand?” The police burst in, and so the whirlwind began of answering questions, and signing things, and getting a lawyer to help him sell the house he’d grew to call a home.

“You’re still legally a minor. Do you have a legal guardian?”

“Not…No. Not anymore.”

****

Packing up the house was never going to be a pleasant experience. Everything not in his room was being put in storage. He didn’t like the idea of a foster home with all his expensive equipment but there was not much he could do. He’d thrown every card he’d received straight into the bin, without opening them. He didn’t need false sentiment. No-one knew how he was feeling. He’d barely spoken in the week after. Only to the lawyer about selling the house. 

As he stacked boxes, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned before going back to his work.

“Hey Peter. I said I’d visit.” Peter nodded that he’d heard Bruce’s words, and gestured vaguely to the few chairs that hadn’t been packed up yet. Bruce took a seat, watching Peter for a moment, contemplating him in silence. 

“You have to sell the house.” It was a statement of fact, not looking for confirmation. Another nod from the boy. “Social services?” Another nod, slightly jerky in execution. “That’s no good for a man like yourself.” No answer this time. A thoughtful silence. “Peter, I was thinking… You need someone to watch over you. Not as a parent, that time has passed, but something more… Suited to your needs. You aren’t an ordinary boy. You need more than these places can give you. Cassandra and Tim needed that too.” Ah, the other two kids. “So… That’s why I’m offering you a room in the manor. There’s no pressure. You won’t be made a member of the family if you don’t want to be. Just a room and someone to fix you when you’re broken.” Bruce wasn’t naive. Peter would be fuelled by anger now, not cold anger where you used it, but hot anger that used you. But maybe, having someone who was handy at stitching skin would be useful. Maybe he’d learn a few tricks from Cass and Tim. They’d break him in. Make him a professional.

“Alright.” Bruce nodded, standing to leave.

“I’ll see you soon Peter.”


End file.
